


Dreams Do Come True

by elliex



Series: Dreamworlds [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Realities, Claire Saves Castiel, Domestic Fluff, Dreams, Loosely draws upon S10, M/M, Mark of Cain, My Two Dads - Freeform, grace cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In one world, Castiel has sacrificed himself for Dean, and Dean struggles with the possibility of losing him forever. Claire offers one last chance to save them all. </p><p>In another world, Castiel and Dean have made a home with their infant daughter. </p><p>The worlds cross over in Dean's dreams. Can they all have a happy ending? </p><p>This is the fourth installment in the Dreamworlds series; it may not make much sense without the context of the previous installments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams Do Come True

\+ + + +

 

“No,” Dean said, slamming his fist onto the table. “Cas won’t sign off on this.”

 

“Cas is unconscious,” Sam retorted, looking up from behind teetering stacks of books. “It doesn’t matter whether he signs off or not.”

 

“That’s what you think,” Dean muttered. He paced back and forth. “Say it works, and he comes back, all smitey powers intact. How pissed do you think he’s going to be?”

 

Sam sighed heavily. “Yeah, he might be pissed, but – look.” Sam opened the book he was reading, flipping until he found the right page. “Look, Dean. This says exactly how to extract residual grace. I’m not going to hurt her.”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You said it was painful when Cas did it to you.”

 

Sam swallowed. “Well, uh – yeah. It was. But it wasn’t _permanent_ hurt, just temporary.” He looked guiltily at Claire. “I told her.”

 

“He did,” Claire confirmed. “I know what I’m doing, Dean.”

 

Dean looked over at the teenager. Her blonde hair hung in artful braids, and her make-up was heavier than Dean would have preferred – a realization that startled him. _Where did that come from?_ , he wondered uneasily. _I’m not her father._

 

He squared his jaw. “I don’t like it. And I can tell you right now that Cas won’t either.”

 

“Doesn’t my opinion mean anything?,” Claire asked. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

 

“Hell no,” Dean said.

 

“Yes, she does,” Sam insisted. “I explained everything to her, Dean. This is her choice.”

 

“Why?” Dean asked, turning to speak directly to Claire. “He tore your life apart. We didn’t help,” he added, gesturing at himself and Sam. “Your mom and step-dad got killed last year, and you’ve been in how many foster homes already?” He eyed Claire skeptically. “Why are you willing to help?”

 

Claire swallowed hard. “Because … because he’s all I have left.” She shrugged. “I know he’s not my dad. Sam told me that’s not even my dad’s body. But Castiel was in me once, remember?”

 

Dean paled. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

 

Claire scrunched her face. “Ew. Don’t be gross.”

 

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam echoed. “Don’t be gross. You’re offending the teenager.”

 

Dean glared at his brother. Claire rolled her eyes and gave a belabored sigh. “I have flashes of memory about it – I mainly remember that he meant well, that he was scared, and that he loved… well, _you_ ,” she added pointedly, looking at Dean.

 

Dean’s cheeks pinked. Sam huffed a laugh that he – wisely, Dean noted – turned into a strangled cough.

 

“So why now?,” Dean asked. “You could have found us – _found him_ – before.”

 

“Not really,” Claire answered. “Mom asked Mr. Singer to help her with paperwork – she got what she needed, changed our last names, and we… started over, I guess. She told the story that dad died in a car crash so often that she believed it…”

 

Claire’s voice trailed off, and she sat silently for a moment, staring blankly at the floor. “I argued with her about it – at first, anyway. It always made her so sad.” Claire sniffed, and Dean resisted the urge to comfort her. “Then she met Bill, and I just… I decided to go along with it because it made everything easier…” Claire cleared her throat. “But when that weird meteor shower happened, I _knew_ something big was going on. I planned to find you then, but the accident happened, and I just… I just …”

 

Dean recognized the hollow look in her eyes; she didn’t have to say what she’d been thinking of doing. He knew. “Claire –”

 

She cut him off. “Don’t,” crossing her arms against her stomach and hunching over.  “Shit happens, right?”

 

Dean watched helplessly until he noticed a shiny spot at the corner of her eye. Impulsively, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. Claire jerked, but Dean only hugged her more tightly.

  
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair. His words seemed to break through her defenses, and her single tear turned into loud, gut-wrenching sobs. Still, Dean held her, rubbing small circles onto her back. As she quieted, Dean assured her, “You’re here now, kiddo. And we’re keeping you, whether you do the spell or not.”

 

She sniffled loudly. “Why would you do that?”

 

“Because.” Every fiber of his being wanted Castiel back, but Dean also felt protective of Claire, and he knew that Cas would, too. He swallowed hard, adding, “And I mean it, you don’t have to do this, even if that means – ”

 

He didn’t get to finish, though, before Claire raised her head to glare up at him.  Her eyes were red, her make-up smudged, but Dean saw her strength and stubbornness. “I’m doing the spell, Dean. We – _I_ –have to save him.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but she whacked him on the arm. “I am,” she insisted. “With or without your blessing.”

 

“Alright,” he said with reluctance. Hugging her tightly once more, he kissed the top of her head. “Okay,” he repeated.

 

Sam spoke from behind them. “So? We’re doing this?”

 

Dean released Claire and stepped back, giving her space to answer. She nodded confidently. “Yeah, we’re doing this,” she said.

 

+

 

Dean had trouble sleeping that night. He kept dreaming of an infant Claire; she had colic, and he and Cas were exhausted. Ellen showed up, ordered them both to bed, and took over for the day. He’d curled into Cas’s arms and was out like a light.

 

And that’s when Dean woke up, the dream’s warmth dissipating as he realized where and when he was. He’d begun to wonder if somewhere, out there, existed another world where he and Cas and Sam didn’t fight monsters, where they lived their lives. He hoped so. But in this world, he knew better than to try sleeping again; the memory of lying in Cas’s arms lingered, bringing more pain than pleasure.

 

He stood and stretched his back, wincing as it cracked. He hated to admit it, but he really was getting too old to sleep on the hard floor. He rolled up his sleeping bag, stowing it in his closet before taking the chair at Cas’s bedside. 

 

Cas lay wan and weak, cheeks sunken and skin blue-tinged. Dean’s heart sank, and he knew that Sam was right. If they were going to try the spell, they had to do it now. Despite whatever stasis he’d fallen into, Cas wouldn’t last much longer. 

 

Dean checked the time. It was only half-past five; Charlie was due to arrive with the last of the ingredients Sam needed around 10, and by noon, the experiment would be underway. Dean wondered, not for the first time, if Sam’s confidence in the spell was more show than truth, but he couldn’t bear continuing on that train of thought. He’d carried the craving ache to hear Cas’s voice and feel his touch for so long… Dean didn’t think he’d be able to survive if Cas didn’t.

 

Those thoughts finally convinced Dean to give into the impulse he’d been resisting all these weeks. He carefully climbed onto the bed, laying alongside Cas. With his cheek pillowed on his arm, Dean faced Cas, watching him breathe slowly, shallowly. Hesitantly, Dean lay his left hand on Castiel’s heart, his own lurching when he realized how faintly Castiel’s beat. Squeezing his eyes shut against the burning tears spilling down his cheeks, and swallowing hard to combat rising bile, Dean began to pray.

+

 

Dean held Claire’s hand while Sam extracted the grace. She was a trooper, but the tears in her eyes, the corded muscles in her neck, and the grip she kept on Dean’s hand told him how badly it hurt.

 

She was shaking head to foot by the time the extraction was finished, and Dean continued to hold her hand while Sam and Charlie completed the spell. Claire insisted on being in the room when they administered the potion, so Dean half-carried her to his bedroom, where Castiel still lay. He settled Claire onto a chair in the corner, covering her with a light blanket.

 

Sam and Charlie had insisted on performing the spell. Sam had said, “No offense, Dean, but you’re too nervous about this. If one thing goes wrong… there are no do-overs.” Dean had watched anxiously, though, making them explain each step they took in excruciating detail.

 

When Sam finally injected Castiel with the bespelled grace, Dean couldn’t breathe. A long moment of silence filled the room.

 

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d expected – maybe a blast of light or a sudden transformation Disney style? What he did _not_ expect was for Cas to continue lying there as if nothing at all had happened.

 

It was Dean who finally broke the pin-drop silence. “Did it work?”

 

Sam’s expression was pained. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “I hope so.”

 

Charlie said nothing, though her shiny eyes and sympathetic smile spoke volumes. The sight of Cas’s still body rent a gaping wound in Dean’s soul.

 

“Don’t give up, handmaiden,” Charlie murmured, squeezing Dean’s arm as she left the room. He barely registered her words or touch.

 

Sam gripped Dean’s shoulder, jolting him out of his dazed grief for a moment. “There was no lore about how long it might take,” Sam said softly, guiding Dean to the bedside chair.

 

Dean felt Sam’s hold briefly tighten. “I’ll be back,” Sam said.

 

Dean managed to croak out, “Thanks, Sammy.”

 

Sam stopped before exiting the room. “Don’t thank me yet.” He paused a moment before adding, in a ragged voice, “He’s my friend, too, and if this doesn’t work, I just don’t know…”

 

Dean’s despair welled up, and he dropped his head. Dean heard Sam shuffling his feet and clearing his throat. “It’ll be okay,” Sam said gruffly. “It’ll be okay.” And then Sam was gone, his footsteps echoing quietly down the hall.

 

Dean sat silently, watching Cas, and counting every precious rise of his angel’s chest. After a while, he leaned forward, running his fingers through Cas’s dark hair. He loved the mess of curls it had turned into over the past few weeks.

 

“I need you to wake up,” he murmured. “I need you here with me.” Dean cupped Cas’s cheek with one hand. “Can you hear me?”

 

“You really love him, don’t you?,” Claire asked.

 

Dean jerked away from Cas and turned to see Claire sleepily rubbing her eyes. “I forgot you were there,” he said, somewhat defensively.

 

Claire rolled her eyes at him, and Dean got up and walked over, taking the small armchair across from her. He purposefully fought away the memory of the late nights he and Castiel had spent sitting at this same table, in these same chairs, talking about their days over tea or coffee or whiskey with Sam none-the-wiser. 

 

“I figured,” she said dryly.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Better,” she said, rubbing at the bandage on her neck. “Nauseous but better.”

 

“Good,” Dean said.

 

An awkward moment passed before Claire said, “You didn’t answer my question.”  


“Huh?”

 

“Nice try, king of evasion.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yeah, okay?”

 

Claire put a hand over her heart and fluttered her lashes. “What an eloquent proclamation,” she said with a laugh.

 

“Shut up,” Dean muttered. Claire laughed again. Normally, this was where Dean would throw a barb that would end a conversation too touchy-feely for his liking. This time, though… Dean took a breath.

 

“I do,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Love him, I mean. I’m just shit with words….” Dean trailed off.

 

Claire sobered immediately. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

A long minute passed before Dean admitted, “I never told him.”

 

Dean glared at Claire when she huffed a small laugh, but then he noticed her soft smile and the mirth in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure the whole universe knows,” she assured him.

 

Dean’s mouth twisted wryly. “I only care about what Cas knows.”

 

Claire looked over at the bed. “He knows.”

 

“You think?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Dean bowed his head, pressing his palms against his suddenly-burning eyes. He felt Claire’s small hand clasp his forearm, and he let out a small sob.

 

+

 

Dean and Claire kept vigil at Cas’s bedside for the rest of the day. Sam and Charlie checked in periodically, their pained expressions betraying their worry.

 

Dean, lost in the memory of the day he’d found Cas sick in bed and had fought his demonic nature to care for him, startled when Claire spoke.

 

“After mom died? I hoped that y’all would come for me.”

 

 “I’m sorry we didn’t – we would’ve, if we’d known.”

 

“I get that now,” Claire said. “I’d hoped…” Her voice trailed off, and Dean looked over at her.

 

“Hoped what?”

 

She shrugged. “That maybe you two would be together, that we could be a family.” Her laugh was a brittle sound that made Dean cringe inwardly. “Stupid, right? It’s not like I’m _his_ kid or anything.”

 

Dean noted the sadness in her eyes, the lost hope. She looked much younger than 16.

 

“It’s not stupid,” he said. “It makes sense to me, but…” He broke off, wanting to choose his words carefully. “I’m a wreck, Claire, and if you knew everything? I don’t think you’d want to hang with us.”

 

Claire slumped in her chair. “We’re all wrecks,” she pointed out. She didn’t counter Dean’s argument and that bothered him more than anything. He thought of how his dream-self had felt holding infant Claire, knowing that she was his daughter in every way that mattered. He cleared his throat.

 

“I meant what I said earlier – I just… I don’t know what’ll happen if, I mean _when_ , Cas wakes up. I … uh… I did some pretty bad stuff.”

 

Claire gave him a skeptical look. “He forgave you for jumpstarting the _apocalypse_.”

 

“I think I’ve topped that since then,” he said apologetically.

 

Her face fell, and Dean’s heart twisted. He added, “But I promise, this is your home for as long as you want it to be. And we’re your family no matter what.”

 

“Even if you and Cas aren’t together?”

 

Dean flinched inwardly at Claire’s ability to cut to the chase. He swallowed and met her earnest blue eyes, nodding. “Yeah, Claire. The whole two dads package – no matter what.”

 

Claire ducked her head and said quietly, “Thanks, Dean.”

 

“No problem, kiddo.” He took note of the circles under her eyes and decided to try out his dad voice. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

 

Claire’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but then she smiled. “Yeah, I guess I should.” She stood and impulsively threw her arms around Dean’s neck. He hugged back and kissed her on the temple. “Get some rest, Claire. I’ll come get you if anything changes.”

 

“Thanks,” she murmured. She was still smiling as she left the room.

 

Dean felt something warm unfurl in his chest – he thought it might be hope...maybe even the beginnings of fatherly pride.

 

+

 

Sometime near dawn, Cas’s eyes fluttered. Dean couldn’t breathe – he leaned forward, cupping Cas’s cheek with one hand, rubbing his thumb softly along a beloved cheekbone.

 

“Cas, can you hear me?,” Dean asked. “Cas?”

 

After several tense minutes of Dean murmuring and pleading, Cas managed to open his eyes. His gaze fixed on Dean, and a slow smile spread across his face.

 

“Dean,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

Dean couldn’t speak. He gave Cas a watery smile instead and brushed his lips across Cas’s forehead.

 

Cas’s fingers grasped the front of Dean’s shirt tightly. “Are you okay?,” Cas asked, breaking into a cough.

 

“Hold on,” Dean said. He grabbed a bottle of water and held it to Cas’s mouth. “Drink,” he ordered.

 

After Cas had downed most of the bottle, Dean helped him to the bathroom before settling him back into bed. “I should go wake everyone,” he said.  But Cas reached for Dean’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and Dean let himself be pulled down to the bed instead. He lay in Cas’s arms, his head on Cas’s chest, listening to a heart that now beat with a steady, staccato rhythm.

 

“Tell me everything,” Cas murmured, running fingers through Dean’s hair.

 

Dean complied, telling him about Claire, about the spell, about his need for Cas to forgive him. Cas told Dean if in the same situation, he’d make the same decisions… whatever it took to keep Dean alive. When Dean protested, Cas told him to shut up in the smitey tone that always sent entirely pleasurable shivers down Dean’s spine.

 

“I love you,” Dean said.

 

“I know,” Castiel replied. He pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

 

Dean  fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 

+   + +

 

Dean woke alone, the bedroom bathed in the dusky gray light of dawn. He lay there a moment, contemplating, before throwing off the covers and going in search of Cas.

 

He found his husband in the nursery. Dean leaned against the doorway, a soft smile on his face, watching as Cas swayed their sleeping daughter back and forth and hummed her a lullaby.

 

“She okay?,” Dean whispered.

 

Startled, Cas looked up before smiling softly and nodding. He kissed Claire on the head and gently lay her in the crib and tucked her in. When he turned, Dean held his arms open, and Cas slipped into them.

 

They held onto one another tightly; Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’s neck before tucking his face there.

 

“You okay?,” Cas murmured. “Another bad dream?”

 

Dean stood motionless a moment longer, inhaling the scent that was uniquely _Cas_ , before raising his head.

 

“No,” he answered, smiling a watery smile. “Good dreams for once.”

 

Cas tightened his hold on Dean’s waist. “Let’s go back to bed,” he said. “You can tell me all about it.”

 

Dean lay in Cas’s arms, his head on Cas’s chest, listening to a heart that beat with a steady, staccato rhythm, and he shared his dream: Claire, the spell, dream-Dean’s anxiety that it might not work, his relief when it did, and everyone’s jubilation at having Castiel back. “They even told each other how they felt – _finally_ ,” Dean said.

 

“I’m glad they figured it out,” Cas murmured, running fingers through Dean’s hair. “And what about Claire?”

 

“She’s with them. They love her, and she loves them, though there’s a lot of baggage there,” Dean answered.

 

Cas snorted. “I bet.” His fingers traced up and down Dean’s skull, and Dean shivered at the touch.

 

“Think they’ll be okay now?,” Cas asked.

 

Dean thought a moment, remembering one of the last images he’d seen: Cas, Dean, and Claire had been at a high school for parent-teacher night. She’d still called them by their first names, but she’d introduced them as “my parents.” Cas and Dean had smiled proudly as the homeroom teacher praised Claire for doing so well despite starting mid-semester. “That’s our girl,” Dean had said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Our daughter is very smart,” Castiel had assured the teacher. Claire had blushed scarlet, but she’d smiled happily.

 

Dean looked up at Cas and smiled. “Yeah. You know what? I really think they will.”

 

Cas smiled back and tugged Dean up to kiss him. The soft press of lips quickly turned into Dean driving his tongue deep into Cas’s mouth, and Cas pressing back. Dean slotted their bodies together and drove his hips against Cas’s, in perfect synch with the movements of his tongue.

 

Cas groaned, and Dean smiled against his lips before mouthing a trail along Cas’s jaw, down his neck. He rucked up Cas’s t-shirt and sucked at Cas’s nipples, his bellybutton, and then he ran the flat of his tongue along the thin cloth covering Cas’s hard cock.

 

Dean carefully pulled down the waistband of Cas’s boxers, smiling as his husband’s dick sprang free. Cas exhaled loudly, and Dean gazed directly into those blue eyes as he ran his tongue from root to tip and flicked his tongue around Cas’s cockhead. Cas’s breathing quickened, and Dean smirked before suddenly taking Cas into his mouth and swallowing him whole.

 

“Shit,” Cas breathed, his hands scrabbling for purchase, and one finding its way into Dean’s hair, just as Dean liked it.

 

Cas held on tightly, the hair pulling at Dean’s scalp, as Dean hollowed his cheeks and sucked – he enjoyed the weight of Cas’s cock on his tongue, the head pressing at the back of his throat. One hand worked Cas’s balls, and the fingers of his other hand ghosted over the sensitive skin behind Cas’s sac.

 

He kept his eyes on Cas’s face the entire time, wanting to see the moment when Cas couldn’t hold back anymore. Cas closed his eyes and tipped his head back, his fingers tightening in Dean’s hair. He began thrusting into Dean’s mouth, and Dean let him, taking him deeper. He hummed around Cas’s cock, and Cas’s thrusts faltered; Dean kept on, and he slipped his index finger inside of Cas’s body, crooking it just so – and Cas came with a muffled cry.

 

Dean worked him through it, his finger massaging inside, his mouth and throat wringing Cas’s orgasm out of him.

 

“Jesus, Dean,” Cas muttered, watching as Dean licked his cock clean. Dean grinned, and Cas pulled him up for a kiss. “Your turn,” Cas whispered, reaching inside Dean’s pajama pants.

 

Dean gave himself over to his husband, letting Cas maneuver him onto his back and worship him with his mouth. Dean shut his eyes, enjoying the sensations of Cas’s teeth and tongue and lips. He gasped when the lubed tip of something hard pressed against his hole and then worked inside him. Without even looking, he knew it was the thin purple vibrator they had bought the other week, and he tingled in anticipation.

 

Cas knew it, too. “Easy there,” Cas cautioned, his voice low and rough. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

 

Dean’s dick had lain against his stomach, hard and leaking, while Cas had paid attention to every other body part. Now, Cas finally laved it with his tongue, working it over before taking Dean into his mouth. When Dean felt Cas’s throat swallow around him, he couldn’t help thrusting into that tight, wet heat.

 

Dean held onto the headboard and moaned, and Cas was relentless, working Dean hard and fast. Cas tightened his grip around the base of Dean’s dick and hummed, and then Dean felt the vibrator come to life and begin to fuck him at the same time. Dean’s back arched and he moaned again, loud and wanton.

 

He had to beg Cas to let him come, and when he finally did, Dean saw stars. He lay there panting and boneless while Cas pulled the vibrator from his body and cleaned him up.

 

“Feel better?,” Cas asked cheekily as he pulled Dean into his arms.

 

“You could say that,” Dean muttered. “Holy hell, Cas.” He snuggled closer to his husband so that he could kiss him, and his exhausted dick twitched at the taste of himself on Cas’s tongue. He slipped his leg between Cas’s so that they’d fit closer together.

 

Cas slipped his right arm over Dean’s hips, his hand splaying across the small of his back. He smiled sleepily at Dean and kissed him again. “Think our bizarro twins ever do anything like this?,” he asked.

 

Dean huffed a laugh. “Where do you think I got the idea?”

 

Cas laughed and cupped Dean’s face with his right hand, brushing his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone.  “I love you,” he murmured.

 

Dean smiled broadly and put his left hand over Cas’s, bringing its palm to his mouth for a light kiss. “I know,” he said.

 

And snugged together, limbs entwined, they slept.

 

\+ + + +

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've really enjoyed this 'verse, though I see this installment as its end. If I change my mind about that, any new updates will be posted to the Dreamworlds series.


End file.
